Four short beeps sound out suddenly, and a whirring has the door rolling inward as if it’s mechanised. I look round her again as she smiles, a deviant little grin raising my brow as she loosens her hold round my neck. “Are you going in first? Or would you like to follow me?” she says. “I know what you’re like about being in control.” I look down the dark little rabbit hole she’s opened and frown, unsure what the hell she’s playing at. “It’s alright to be scared. I mean, remember the shorts? Pussy.” The fuck? My eyes swing to hers. She’s giggling. Or rather trying to hide it.
“It’s going to be more than fucking bananas if you keep up with this shit, Gabby.” She snorts and turns away from me towards the door. “You’ve caused enough trouble already.” She drops her smile a little at that and ducks under the low arch, disappearing into the recesses.
“Gabby?” I mutter out as I follow. Pitch black greets me the moment I enter.
Nothing comes back so I reach for the walls on either side of me to find my way along, and eventually see a dim light coming at me in the distance. “You up there?” Voices echo back—the voice of a man talking with her in that language again. I frown and hurry on, clattering over the stone floor and running my hands along crumbling masonry.
“Ah, here he is,” the guy says. “Hallo.”
“Nate, this is Christophe Murdain. He’s a diamond specialist.” I look between the pair of them, sizing up my competition who happens to be too fucking good looking for my liking. Brown hair, taller than me, built like Quinn and carrying a smile that would drop any woman’s panties. “I think that’s what his name is anyway. It’s what I’ve called him for four years.” He chuckles and extends a hand to me. I glare at it, jealousy owning every part of me. Jesus fucking Christ. “Nate?” He laughs again and forces his hand to mine.
“I’m gay. Lose the attitude, yah? Attractive as she is, it is only her glitter I’m after. Nothing more.” I might huff and shake his hand too firmly, suddenly perplexed at my own irrationality. He points at me, then her. “Love does that to a man. Or lust. Be careful with that around women like her,” he says, looking back at her and smiling. “She will be like a ghost in the night if you push too hard.” I know that already. Dick. “Or a thief in its depths.”
He laughs. She does, too.
I feel like punching the ever-loving fuck out of someone.
“I thought I’d show you what I do now we’re here,” she says softly, drawing my eyes back to her. “Look.” She nods at Christophe and he pulls back a burgundy cloth draped across the table. The jewellery that lies beneath it has me widening my eyes, trying to calculate its value. Not that I know shit about diamonds, or their worth, but fuck. She points at the smaller stones. “Asia, last year.” Then the slightly larger ones that have been worked into some bracelets. “India. That was a hard job. Real fucking hard, Nate.” I raise a brow at her dig. “Took me a long time to plan that one and get it right.” My eyes drift to the four large stones, three of them buried in a necklace that royalty should probably wear, and the last in a ring most women wouldn’t dare to wear. “And you don’t want to know where I got those from. I might have to kill you.” I look back at her, unsure who the fuck she is all over again. She smiles. It’s pride—pride and a sense of happiness all wrapped up in what she does. And she couldn’t look more stunning because of it. It flows from her now in this little dark room full of dishonesty and vice. It’s part of who she is, isn’t it? Who she’s become. My little thief in the night. Mine. “Christophe turns them into something I can move on. After I’ve got all the accreditations I need, anyway.”
“Prachtig,” Christophe says. I look up at him. “Magnificent, no?”
Even I must accept that they are, regardless of how much I despise the thought of her being anywhere near the world she lives in.
“And the other thing I asked about?” she says, picking up the ring and looking at it through a small glass she places over her eye.
“Ah, yes. What have you been doing?”
“Me? Nothing.” She inspects the jewellery closer, holding it up to the light. “I just need the information. Diamonds don’t disappear off the face of the earth. Someone planned and took them. I knew if anyone could find them, it would be you.” Christophe moves over to the side of the room and pulls a folder from a metal chest of drawers in the corner.
“You flatter me.”
“You’re worth flattering, Christophe.” The guy chuckles. It annoys the fuck out of me.
“Japan, according to my sources. Yakuza.”
My eyes swing to him the moment he says it, interest piqued, and then to her because what the hell? I thought she was a jewel thief, not part of that shit. Her hand pulls the glass away slowly, a look of disbelief flashing across her face. Fear cloaks the joy of a moment ago.
“Why would they want my diamonds?” She lets the ring tumble to the table. “I’ve never had anything to do with Yakuza.”
“Your diamonds?” he asks.
“Sort of.”
“You are in a little deep, Gabriella.”
“You can damn well say that again,” I mutter, turning from the room and trying not to explode. Yakuza? Screw that.
And screw her, too.
I storm out into the darkness again, ducking along the corridor to get some damn air. Jesus Christ. I thought Marco was bad enough, but I could have worked that, made it safe again somehow until I found the other invested party and pushed them down a peg or two by coercion. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? The Yakuza are the one organisation we’ve got nothing on. And because of everything I’ve done over the last year, trying to make us safe, I’ve lessoned that nothing to fuck all leverage and barely any hope.
Jesus, what has she gotten herself into?
The cold snaps at my skin as I pull the door wide and slam it against the wall, snow blasting me in the face. I scowl at it and keep my head down, walking onwards with no idea where I’m going. Who cares? I don’t. I’m just walking to try to find a plan that I haven’t got. I can’t even do this on my own now. I need Quinn. Need his contacts. And won’t that be fucking enjoyable for him? Big brother comes to save the damn day. Nate Cane, unable to stay in front without the great Quinn backing him up.
Fuck.
At least I know who else is involved. Information is key here.
